Who I Am Hates Who I've Been
by Ninja Stealth Noise
Summary: Norrington songfic set to Relient K's Who I Am Hates Who I've Been. Does our Norrington hate who he's been or who he is? Just a little idea that was nagging at me. Implied Norrabeth.


Who I Am Hates Who I've Been

Because Norrington probably does hate who he was in Dead Man's Chest. Song is by Relient K.

_I watched the proverbial sunrise  
Coming up over the Pacific  
And you might think I'm losing my mind  
But I will shy away from the specifics_

Cause I don't want you to know where I am  
Cause then you'll see my heart  
In the saddest state it's ever been   
This is no place to try and live my life  


James Norrington stood at the starboard side of the Black Pearl, stretching his back after a long period of deck-swabbing. The sun was beginning to set over the dark Caribbean water, fighting to let its light pour into the world for a moment more. In the dimming light, he looked down at his crusty jacket, adorned with hardened mud. What had he become? He needed to get back, he needed to find what he wanted most…but what did he want?

The inner battle continued, just as it did every day. Was he going mad?

_  
Stop right there!  
That's exactly where I lost it  
See that line?  
Well, I never should've crossed it  
Stop right there!  
Well, I never should've said that  
It's the very moment that I wish that I could take back._

It was that self-doubt that had ruined him; it was that kind of thinking that got him into this mess in the first place. One moment of second guessing lost him everything…Never again would he think himself mad. Never again would he be this way again, once he found his place in the world. __

I'm sorry for the person I became  
I'm sorry that it took so long for me to change  
I'm ready to be sure I never become that way again   
Cause who I am hates who I've been  
Who I am hates who I've been  


"The heart of Davy Jones." The words tasted just as he thought they would have, and the sight of Lord Beckett's satisfaction was perhaps more happiness than his heart could bear at that moment. Surely it would have shrunk from lack of use as of late. The news of his immediate appointment to Admiral was enough to make him leap for joy. He stayed still though, becoming once more the man of silent propriety that he was some time ago. _  
_

_I talked to absolutely no one  
Couldn't keep to myself enough  
And the things bottled inside  
Had finally begun to create so much pressure  
That I'd soon blow up  
_

_And I heard the reverberating footsteps  
Syncing up to the beating of my heart  
And I was positive that unless  
I got myself together   
I would watch me fall apart  
_

_And I can't let that happen again  
Cause then you'll see my heart  
In the saddest state it's ever been  
This is no place to try and live my life  
_

Admiral James Norrington tweaked a button on his clean navy jacket. These new clothes were so different from the clothes he had worn in the weeks previous. They were stiffer, more unyielding. Not that James was complaining. This was his place: on a ship flying the Navy colors, with clean-shaven faces all around, air filled with the sharp barking of orders and devoid of any whiff of rum.

Yet with all the familiarity that came flooding back to him in those first days, James could not bring himself to confide his happiness in anyone, though he saw more than one man who, once upon a time, would be happy to listen. Gillette, Groves, Mullroy, Murtogg, even Governor Swann was there with him on the HMS Endeavor. The question was: did he want to tell anyone of his recent life? _No_, was his answer, _who I am hates who I've been_. But still, when the faces of his former underlings passed, he felt the need to shout his story, to relieve the pressure in his heart.

Sometimes at night, he wondered whether he'd made the right choice. Was this really the side he was on? Was this really his place?

All his life's choices echoed his mind, his wise decisions and his mistakes, until his memory brought him back to the moment at hand. When his mind skirted over his dark and secret lapse into what he hated most, he saw himself rum-soaked and wobbly-legged, just about to break. As he watched himself in his head he wanted to shout:

_Stop right there!  
That's exactly where I lost it  
See that line?  
Well, I never should've crossed it  
Stop right there!  
Well, I never should've said that  
It's the very moment that I wish that I could take back._

Actually, when he thought about it, James could think of another who would need these words of advice. William Turner. Wasn't the blacksmith-turned-pirate in love with the same Elizabeth Swann that James had been, the Elizabeth that had caused this mess? The poor whelp's love for her was leading him down a path very similar to James's own.

_Only there was a shorter distance to fall_, he had told himself. But no matter how far either of them was from the hard ground, it had been the same person who had caused them both to float up into the sky in the first place. __

I'm sorry for the person I became  
I'm sorry that it took so long for me to change  
I'm ready to be sure I never become that way again   
Cause who I am hates who I've been  
Who I am hates who I've been 

_  
Who I am hates who I've been  
And who I am will take the second chance you gave me  
Who I am hates who I've been  
Cause who I've been only ever made me_

Whenever he saw himself in a mirror, he aimed a cannon load of loathing toward his reflection. He had not discovered the reason why. Did he see himself looking out of the glass or was it his past in costume, mocking what he had become once again? Twice already he'd broken a mirror out of blind sorrow and hatred, whether it was for who he was or who he'd been. _This, _he knew, _is the price of the promise of redemption. Or is it the dark side of ambition?_


End file.
